


When The Snow Called To Be Brave

by Velvedere



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Kid Thor, King Loki, M/M, Old King Thor, Old Married Couple, Thor Swap 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:34:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My contribution for the Thor Swap 2014.</p><p>Young Thor is given to Jotunheim in a political marriage. Loki gets to put up with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Loki stood from his throne with such fury that the temperature dropped several degrees.

Even the other Jötnar noticed the sudden darkening around the edges of the room. The new lines of frost that formed like spider webs across the junction of walls and floor.

“What,” hissed their king, “is the meaning of this?”

The guards assigned to either side of the boy shrank away on instinct, all too ready to leave the Asgardian to whatever fate Loki’s wrath deemed appropriate. The boy looked around him, curiously wide-eyed, the bright color of his cloak and garments entirely out of place among the gloom.

“I said,” he repeated, an uncertain tremor in his young voice, “I was sent by Odin. To marry you. Your majesty.”

Silence reigned thick. Loki’s red eyes blazing a murderous rage looked aside to the white wolf lounging at the foot of his throne. The wolf pricked up its ears, gave the canine equivalent of a shrug, and lay its head back down on its paws.

“Is that what Odin instructed you to say?” Loki ground between his teeth. He took one step down from his throne, the fall of his thick fur cloak brushing the ice-lined floor behind him.

He towered over the boy as he approached.

“Speak the truth, boy, and I may yet spare your life.”

“It is the truth!” said the child. His hands came together in front of him, but only to fidget. His eyes the color of sunlight through clear ice rose to Loki, wide in a sort of wonder. The mop of straw-colored hair upon his head remained tossed and tangled from the wind outside the palace. He had not thought to brush it down before his audience with the king. “Odin is my father.”

“What is your name?”

“Thor, your majesty.”

Loki shot his glare towards the guards. They lowered their eyes and avoided his gaze, save their captain, who ruefully nodded his head.

“It is the truth, my king. We met with Odin in his citadel. We told him of our task to escort his only heir back to Jotunheim for the marriage. He delivered us this boy.”

“And you did not think to question him then?” Loki raged, his eyes blazing red coals as he rounded on the guards. They wisely scattered to avoid any ice daggers hurled their way. “Instead you walked this _child_ back here across the realms for all to see and present him to me in this farce? Odin knows our agreement! I will not be made a fool before my people while Odin sits on his armored backside and laughs!”

The boy – Thor – giggled.

Loki whirled on him as a hawk about to dive. The treasonous sound added insult to injury.

But the boy only smiled, half hiding his face behind one hand.

He grinned.

“You said backside.”

Loki would have skinned him alive then and there. But the wolf lounging near his throne yawned and stretched, snorting a quiet huff to remind all he was there.

“The child bears all the proper crests and seals, your majesty,” he said, a seemingly casual air. “Odin would not risk renewed war with Jotunheim by sending less than his true son.”

“He would risk insulting me by trapping me in this ridiculous agreement?” growled Loki.

“To be fair,” said the wolf, “you would do the same to him.”

It did not calm Loki’s anger, but the reasoning gave Loki pause long enough to beat back the flames of his ire. Return them to the depths of a hearth where they simmered and burned like coals. Waiting.

“You’re right,” he sighed at last, a degree of tension leaving his shoulders. “I would.”

All on every side knew the marriage agreement to be a trick. By marrying the heir of Odin under the pretense of establishing peace, Loki would gain access to Asgard’s throne without the threat of outright war, which neither side could truly afford. Then it was only a matter of time before ancient One-Eye passed on for one reason or another. An unfortunate accident could befall his only heir soon after, leaving Loki with every rightful claim to seize Asgard and take control.

He had not known Odin’s heir would be a child. By sending him, Odin stalled for time. Thor would not be of proper age to inherit the throne for many years, during which any number of circumstances could change.

 _Well played, blood-brother,_ Loki scowled internally. He had to grudgingly admit that it was the sort of plan he might have devised, were their situations reversed.

“The wolf! It talks!” Thor clapped his hands in delight and ran forward to examine the animal more closely, abandoning all etiquette – if indeed he knew any in the first place.

Loki sighed, and waved his hand at the guards.

“Show him to his rooms and make certain he’s comfortable,” he said, dismissing them. “We will be married tomorrow morning.”

*****

The wedding – such as it was – was a simple affair. It was never the way of Jotunheim to plan lavish celebrations or host grand feasts the likes for which Asgard was famous. Even so, the ceremony was mild, even by Jotunheim standards.

Loki and Thor stood together before the proper officials. Symbolic tokens were exchanged. Words were spoken. Records were carved and sealed and stored away that the matter would be a fact of history. By the end of the day, very little could be said to have changed.

Loki watched Thor carefully throughout the proceedings. The boy retained his wonder for most everything he saw, easy to smile and laugh and playing along perfectly well with what was presented him. As though it was all a game.

Loki wondered if he truly had any idea what was going on.

That night Loki retired to his room, stripping the wedding trappings from himself to toss into an alcove, then sealed it with ice. He would put them away more ceremoniously later.

“...should have sent him back,” he grumbled to the wolf, who padded in after him. “A child! What is Odin thinking?” His crimson glare swiveled to the creature. “And how did we not know this beforehand? Is the information we secure so unreliable?”

“Technically you are close to the same age,” said the wolf. “Asgardians mature more slowly than we.”

Well, Loki readily could believe that.

“And if you did send him back, Odin would perceive the gesture as an insult. Then he could declare war and rightly say he made a gesture of peace, which you refused.”

“And thus win more allies to his cause.” Loki scowled. “The same as if I killed the whelp.” He angrily snapped a corded necklace from his chest and threw it aside. “Still, Odin took great risk in this.”

“As did you,” said the wolf. “He could have sent someone to whom you instantly lost your heart.”

Loki made a disdainful sound, and let down his hair.

“I’m the king of a dying realm, Hoarfen.” He kept his voice low, as dark as Jotunheim’s sky. “I have no heart to spare. Perhaps the situation can be salvaged. The boy is young. Impressionable. If I can plant the right thoughts in his mind I may yet be able to—”

A light glowed in the ice surrounding the entryway. Loki bid the presence enter, and two guards ducked their heads to step inside.

They walked the Odinspawn between them.

“Sire,” said one of them. “We have brought him.”

“I did not send for him.” Loki waved a dismissive hand. “He has his own rooms. See that he stays there.”

“We would, sire, but...” The guard hesitated.

The boy stepped forward, speaking for himself.

“These rooms are cold, and dark,” he said, with something of a sniffle, yet his bearing remained that of one accustomed to being heard. “I don’t like them.”

“You’ll find all other rooms in the palace little different,” Loki grumbled. “This is not Asgard.” To the guards he ordered: “Take him back. If he’s cold, find another fur for him to wear.”

“No,” said Thor, and the guards did not move.

Loki’s irritation spiked.

“No?”

“We are married now,” said Thor. “I know how this works. I have as much authority as you do.”

Loki’s jaw all but dropped at the audacity. He looked to the guards, who dropped their gaze to the floor, uncertain of how to interpret their conflicting commands. Then he looked to the wolf, who shrugged, and turned around to lick himself. No help at all.

Lastly Loki met the defiant eyes of the little Asgardian. He stood to his full height – though he was still not quite as tall as the guards and other frost giants...in fact, for his race, Loki was quite short...and woe to the ignorant soul who said as much in his presence – and looked down at Thor, tilting up his chin imperiously.

“You have no authority here,” he said, a menacing blade in his words. “I could have you killed right now with less than a wave of my hand.”

Thor puffed up his chest.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.”

Loki stalked towards him.

“Did your father never tell you of the monsters who live here? What foul beasts lurk in every shadow among the snowdrifts? They steal into the nurseries of children at night, eat them on the spot or else drag them away for more nefarious purposes.” He stopped when he stood over the boy, dwarfed in comparison. “And I’m the worst of them all.”

Thor blinked up at him, perhaps shrinking an inch or two under Loki’s glower. But he did not retreat.

Instead, he asked: “What does ‘nefarious’ mean?”

Loki sighed and touched his brow. He waved the guards away again. This time the wolf, too.

“Go. Leave him. I will handle this myself.”

Thor waved enthusiastically and patted Hoarfen’s head as he brushed by.

The wolf did not appear to mind.

Once they were gone, Loki turned away, allowing his menace to melt its tension from his shoulders. It reformed instead into cold indifference as he continued his preparations for bed.

“So you are not afraid of me,” he hummed, amused now.

Thor shivered and tucked his arms in around himself. He looked to the chamber’s window, unshuttered against the snowbound landscape beyond.

“N-No,” he said.

“What did your father tell you about why you were sent here?”

“H-He said that I was coming to live here for awhile.” Thor hugged himself tighter. “That’s all.”

“He did not tell you why?”

“N-No.” Thor stuck out his bottom lip. “He s-said it was for the good of the r-realm.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I d-don’t know...”

He shivered again. Loki rolled his eyes massively and made a gesture in the air. Abruptly a fire sprang to life in the center of the open floor. Green-flamed, it produced heat but consumed no fuel. Thor jumped away from it until he realized it was not going to burn him.

“You can do magic?” He looked to Loki wide-eyed.

Loki murmured: “Your father neglected to mention that as well.”

Thor laughed, delighted, and held his hands out to the fire until he stopped shivering. The smile on his face split his expression ear to ear, and refused to abate.

“What else can you do?”

“Lots of things.”

“Can you fly?”

“If I wish.”

“Can you make me fly?”

“If I also wished.”

Thor giggled.

Loki climbed into bed.

“I would love to fly,” the boy said. “I think above anything else, if I ever had a wish, I would wish for that. To fly just like a bird over the clouds and see storms from the other side...”

“Splendid,” Loki grumbled, sliding down across a luxurious pile of furs and silks. “Dream of that, then, and be silent. I need my rest—what are you doing?”

Thor had started to climb onto the bed with him.

“Sleeping with you,” he said, childish simplicity.

Loki’s temper blazed. He closed his palm to contain a burst of magic within.

“You will do no such thing!”

Thor blinked, and sat, looking at him.

“But we’re married now.”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“It’s what my mother and father do.”

“You’re an infant!”

“But—”

Loki moved his hand. He resisted the urge the seal the persisting source of his annoyance away in a block of ice, and lifted him into the air instead. Thor hung suspended by nothing, arms and legs flailing for purchase.

“Go back to your rooms,” Loki scowled. “I need my rest. I have no time for a child.”

Thor’s flailing somewhat ceased when he did not fall. Somewhat.

“My rooms are cold,” he pouted.

“I’ll have a fire made for you there.”

“But you’re my husband.” Thor frowned. “Or am I your husband? Which way is it?”

Loki considered the wisdom of hurling him out the window.

As if catching his look, Thor asked: “And why do you not shutter the windows? Aren’t you cold?”

“Jötnar do not feel cold.” Loki ground the words between his teeth.

“Then why are there blankets on your bed? Don’t you sleep under them?”

“I sleep on top of them. For comfort. Their feel is pleasant.”

“Can I feel?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re also known to eat small children when they’re aggravated!”

Loki sighed, long and suffering. He touched a hand to his brow, closed his eyes against the wide open look of horror on Thor’s face, and lowered him slowly to the ground.

“If I allow you to stay here tonight,” he said, very, very tightly, “will you cease your prattling?”

“Yes,” said Thor, also quietly, “if you let me stay.”

“One night only.”

“Alright.”

“And you will not speak another word.”

Thor nodded, vigorous.

“Good.”

He climbed into the bed, a pile of furs and cloths on an outcropping of sculpted ice. Loki increased the fire’s size, and scooted over to make room enough. Thor crawled in between the layers of bedding and found them indeed quite comfortable, even warm, with the fire’s help, and once his own body heat had gathered inside.

He curled up small, pulling the furs to his nose.

Loki scowled and remained on top of the blankets, rolling onto his side to put his back to fire and child. He faced the window instead, welcoming the cool breeze that drifted in over his face. Already the room had grown warmer than he liked.

It was going to be a very long night.

*****

Thor slept there that night, and for every night thereafter.

After the first week Loki had a bed fashioned for him more fitting an Asgardian’s taste. It was warm and soft, made of carved wood rather than ice – which had not been easy to come by in Jotunheim – complete with a small hearth in which Loki maintained a green fire to keep the boy warm at night.

Thor enjoyed it, though on stormy nights he still crawled into Loki’s bed, insisting he was not frightened.

After the first few times, Loki grew more tolerant of it.

Thor grew, and though sometimes in the quiet of the night he whimpered that he missed his mother, he was happy. When those more sober moments came Loki would cheer him with small works of magic, or play shadows upon the wall as he taught Thor stories of ancient Jotunheim.

Thor enjoyed those moments.

Loki enjoyed them perhaps more than he was willing to admit.

*****

No clouds filled the sky overhead to offer snow that evening, but flakes drifted nevertheless on every gust of breeze, slight and insubstantial as wandering fancy.

Loki stood at his window in the ice palace, deep in thought as he settled his gaze out across the white landscape of his kingdom. The sun was a cold and distant star, casting the realm below it in prismed shades of blue and purple. Even its light on the snow failed to produce anything truly bright. Jotunheim was a dark place, and it bred dark things.

A flicker of movement drew Loki’s attention. He arched one dark brow down at the sight of little Thor, playing in the snow just at the foot of the ice palace walls.

He had built a fort, behind which he crouched and threw packed snowballs, shouted challenges to an army of still rocks he had aligned a distance away. As Loki watched, Thor hurled another snowball, splattering it onto the face of a boulder in a white smear.

Loki watched as the boy lifted both his fists in triumph, shouting his victory.

Then, Loki moved only one finger, and a snowball formed from the ground. It flew through the air and struck Thor on the back of the head, hard enough to knock him to the ground.

The boy lay stunned for a moment, then pushed himself up from the shape of his own imprint. He shook clumps of snow from his hair, and looked back at the array of rocks.

They stood perfectly still, silent in their innocence.

The boy hopped to his feet with another bellowing cry – as much as his high, frail voice could manage – and dove for cover behind his fort. There followed a fierce attack of snowballs and taunts, while Loki returned fire, directing an assault of mystically-born snowballs with tiny gestures of his hand.

Loki fought fairly. He stayed on the stones’ side of the battlefield. Thor fought valiantly despite being outnumbered, and refused to surrender his position, even when snowballs assaulted him with such rapid fire they threatened to bury him.

Still, Thor laughed.

“For Jotunheim!” he cried.

Loki smiled.

“Sire?” said Hoarfen behind him, tilting his white head.

Loki’s smile vanished.

“It’s time to leave, sire.”

“Yes. I know.”

Loki pulled away from the window without another thought.

“Fetch the casket.”

*****

Thor saw them depart – without ceremony, without guards – in the direction of night’s encroaching dark.

His battle against the army of stones had since ended. (A decisive victory for him, he thought.) So it was with great pride and triumph in his heart that Thor abandoned his stronghold and ran towards them.

“Loki!”

Loki shot him a look that could have withered flowers.

“Silence, you fool!” he hissed, his own voice kept at a stiff quiet. Hoarfen beside him remained stiff-legged, ears alert.

“Go back inside,” Loki ordered.

Thor stood, stricken.

“But where are you going?” he asked rather than retreat. “It’s so late to be heading out on a journey.”

Thor saw that they carried almost no supplies with them. Nor were they mounted. And the weather grew colder even as they spoke.

Then again, Jotunheim always felt as though it was growing colder.

The only thing Loki carried was a small satchel under his arm, which he held protectively close.

“Nevermind,” he snapped. “Go back inside. We will return soon enough.”

“Go on, boy,” said Hoarfen, silencing Thor’s further protests. “When we return, I’ll give you a ride on my back.”

That satisfied him for the time being, but still Thor looked over his shoulder as he returned to the palace, watching with a growing apprehension until the two figures disappeared into the snowy dark.

*****

Thor couldn’t sleep that night. He sat awake in his and Loki’s room, face turned towards the window. He listened intently in the cool moonlight for the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow, looked for that glow of light upon the outer palace walls, that would signal to him of Loki’s return.

Worry weighed heavy on his heart.

At last there came a commotion beyond the walls. Thor hurried to the window and stood on his toes to peer out.

He saw Loki down below, riding slumped on Hoarfen’s back. A few guards from the palace moved to surround them, helping Loki to his feet and holding him upright when it seemed he could not stand.

Thor ran from the window and down to meet them, his boots slipping on the icy floor.

He met them near the main entrance.

Loki’s arms were slung around the shoulders of two frost giant guards. His head fell forward against his chest, his eyes barely fluttering open.

“Take him upstairs,” growled Hoarfen.

“What’s wrong?” Thor cried, pushing in close. Heedless of the guards who nearly stepped on him. “What happened?”

“Upstairs,” said Hoarfen, nosing him out of the way.

The guards carried Loki to his chambers. They laid him down on the bed, and Thor followed, sticking close even when Hoarfen chased the others out.

He knelt beside Loki, who groaned and buried his face in the blanket furs. His skin seemed pale, somehow. His breath came short.

“He will be alright,” Hoarfen growled when he saw Thor’s worry. “He just needs rest.”

“What happened?” Thor whimpered again.

“A king has certain obligations to his land,” said the wolf. “Sometimes they are taxing.”

It was all he would say on the matter.

They sat for a long while in quiet. Thor drew himself up alongside where Loki had fallen into a fitful sleep. His brow creased, and he groaned, and Thor placed both hands upon his face and smoothed back his hair as best he could, each touch gentle and tender.

Loki felt so warm.

Hoarfen watched him, and watched Loki, his nose twitching as he scented the air.

Gradually, Loki’s fever calmed.

Hoarfen stood up and stretched, then snorted a breath as he turned to leave.

“Stay here with him,” he said to Thor, when the boy looked as though he might follow. “I think he will rest better if you are here.”

*****

Loki slept for a very long time.

At times he groaned, tossed and turned, with worrying clenches of his hands. Other times he lay with the stillness of death, and would not wake even when Thor shook him and called his name.

Thor did not leave his side the whole while.

At last, Loki opened his eyes. He let out a breath, deep and even. His skin was once again deep cerulean and his eyes burned scarlet embers.

He looked down, and saw Thor curled up very small beside him, one hand clutching a fistful of his long hair.

Loki reached out and pried his fingers loose, that he could rise and stretch his sore muscles.

He was in desperate need of a bath.

Thor blinked sleepily as he woke, and lifted his head. Tangled blonde hair had matted itself to one side of his face.

“Husband?” he croaked.

Loki scowled.

“Do not call me that.”

“But you are...”

“I have a name. Use it.”

Loki pushed himself up to rise. He did not get nearly so close to being vertical as he would have liked before his head swam, and he buckled, unable to move any further.

Thor helped him lie back down.

“Are you alright?”

Loki grunted, covering his eyes with one arm.

“Do you need anything? I can have the guards bring you food. Or water.” Thor hovered close. “Do you need snow?”

“I need you to be silent,” Loki snapped.

Silence promptly filled the room. Loki basked in it for several long moments, thinking perhaps even Thor had left, until he peeked out from beneath his arm and saw the boy still seated beside him.

He looked absolutely miserable.

Loki sighed, and moved his hand to let it flop over Thor’s dirty hair. He petted tangled locks back from his face, gentle.

“I’m alright,” he said, softer. “Thank you.”

Thor raised his eyes. Sniffled once.

“What happened?” he asked again.

Loki sighed.

“Someday, I may tell you,” he said. “Until then, I request only this: do not ask me again.”

The brightness faded from Thor once again. But Loki stroked his head, and smiled.

“Think of it as one spouse’s request to another.”

That seemed to cheer him.

Loki lay for awhile longer, regathering his strength. Thor curled up beside him, and with nuzzling insistence managed to convince Loki to raise his arm.

Thor crawled into the open space, and lay his cheek gently on Loki’s chest.

There he stayed, content, until Loki deemed it was time to move again.


	2. Chapter 2

Time passed.

Thor grew.

They were pleasant days, once the new of the marriage became old. Affairs settled back into the routine of normalcy, and Jotunheim focused its efforts on rebuilding what had been destroyed in the war, while Asgard did much the same.

Armies retreated.

Soldiers went home.

The effects of the wedding meant for peace resounded across the realms, signaling an end to the conflict that had characterized the age.

Now as the people rebuilt, they held also their breath, and whispered their wonder over what would become of such a young outsider come to live in Jotunheim. Of course Asgardians were not equipped to handle the cold.

But, with help, Thor managed. He was strong, and capable, a thing that became more and more apparent as he aged. Clad in royal cloths and thick furs he could often be seen playing around the walls of Jotunheim’s ice palace, sometimes riding on the back of a white wolf as he would a mount into battle, other times pitting himself against the merciless stones of an invading army.

Sometimes he spent days packing snow to build a miniature palace as grand as the one in which he and Loki lived. But the snows came often in Jotunheim, and too many times buried the results of his hard work.

Those times Loki would pat his head and encourage him to try again, or cheer him by forming tiny ice sculptures in the palm of his hand.

They grew close.

Sometimes guards muttered among themselves that their king had grown a little too close to his childish spouse, and wondered if Loki’s tastes ran so low.

Never in Loki’s earshot, of course.

Those who did quickly earned a lesson in defenestration.

Still, Thor grew.

When he grew bored of playing war against standing armies of stones, Loki provided him with a fine battle hammer, and Thor joined the ranks of Jötnar warriors, training for battle and learning their ways of combat. He was fierce in the sparring fields, and quickly gained a reputation for being one of the most powerful warriors Jotunheim had ever produced.

 _Jotunheim,_ Loki often thought as he watched Thor battle against three or four frost giants twice his size. _Jotunheim. Not Asgard._

He defeated them all, laughing as battle-crushed snow melted against his brow and made his hair cling damp against his skin.

Thor grew well.

He grew strong.

Several more times Loki went off on his mysterious journeys. To begin, they happened only every few months. As they grew in frequency, so did they in length, and the amount of time it took Loki to recover afterwards. True to his request, Thor did not ask the purpose behind these sudden and unannounced trips, but his concern did not cease to grow. Each time Loki returned he was more pained and haggard than the last. Each time he insisted he was alright.

Thor did not believe him.

Sometimes Hoarfen went with him. Sometimes he did not. Often he stayed behind simply to make sure Thor did not follow Loki out into the wastes.

He too would not say the purpose behind these journeys, or why Loki suffered for them so.

Thor resolved to find out for himself.

*****

Thor’s hammer struck. It aimed true, felled another frost giant warrior who sought to stab him in the back with a spear formed of ice. He turned, facing two more, sent them flying back into banks of snow when they tried to rush forward at once.

Thor laughed all the while.

Loki stood by. He wore a fine cloak of fur about his shoulders, while Thor had shrugged his own aside some time ago. The freedom of movement lent itself better to sparring, and the activity did well to make him oblivious to the cold.

Loki clapped his hands with slow consideration once the match seemed decided, nodding his head in approval.

“Well, you’re not entirely incompetent after all,” he said.

Thor grinned, massive, and wiped an arm across his face.

It was often like this between them. Light banter. A trade of insults. What had begun as grudging affection bloomed slowly over the years into genuine friendship the likes of which even Loki could not conceal.

And, from there, had grown into something more.

“A reward for your champion?” he smiled, a certain lilt to his voice.

Loki tilted up his chin and folded his arms. He scarcely raised an eyebrow.

“A true champion kneels before his king.”

Thor promptly stepped away from the sparring ground, aptly suited by now to crossing the terrain of packed ice and slush-spotted mud without slipping, and ceremoniously set down his hammer by its pommel at Loki’s feet.

He knelt beside it, arm rested upon his knee, and looked up. Eyes eager and shining.

Loki could not help his smile, and bent to kiss him.

“ _Mmm..._ ” He hummed, perfectly pleased, trailing a single finger along Thor’s brow and cheek, up under his chin, as eyes fell closed and mouths parted to taste. “You stink.”

Thor laughed.

“Shall I return to the palace and bathe, my king?”

“In a moment. I enjoy the way you stink.”

“You could dirty me again tonight in your bed.” There Thor’s voice dipped low, saving such words only for Loki’s ears. “There my stink would be all yours.”

Loki glanced away, humming once more as though in thought, before he straightened. Pulled away from Thor’s seeking hand.

“Not tonight, husband,” he said airily. “I must journey.”

Thor’s smile turned to a deep-lined frown, but he did not rise from his kneel. He looked after Loki’s turned back as he moved away to meet Hoarfen, who loped from the palace gates. Thor watched their exchange though he could not hear, stilling the urge to rise and go to Loki’s side.

Loki maintained his insistence that they sleep in different beds. His logic was sound – it was difficult for either of them to find comfortable rest when one ran too warm, the other too cold – and it was a stance upon which he had not budged since Thor came to live there.

Thor understood.

They shared the same chambers. Slept in the same room. But Thor wanted more.

“You are leaving tonight?” he asked, rising from his kneel with a grave air as Loki parted from his exchange with Hoarfen.

“Yes,” said Loki. “You should not expect me back for some time.”

“How long?”

“However long I will be.” A sharpness entered Loki’s glance as he looked to him. A warning. It softened just as quickly as he lifted his hand to brush Thor’s cheek. The scruff of his beard was a pleasant scratch against the palm of his hand. “Do not make that face, Thor. You worry unnecessarily.”

“I will continue to make this face,” Thor huffed, “for as long as it suits me.”

“It does not suit you at all.”

Loki kissed him once more. With pats of his hand he urged him back toward the palace, where a bath and evening meal waited.

“Rest easy,” Loki said, soothing, “and know I do this for the both of us.”

*****

Thor did not rest easy. He did little else other than fret and think and plan and watch until Loki set out for his journey that night.

Thor watched him depart from the spiked tower of the palace ramparts. The sky over Jotunheim fell black that evening, glows of faint purple and deep blue at its edges along the horizon. Flickers of green borealis highlighted among trails of snowclouds, casting all the realm in its glow.

It was a good night for travel. Plenty of light to see by.

A sudden and strange commotion involving escaped beasts from the palace’s underground caves drew the attention and presence of most of the Jötnar guard – Hoarfen included – who ran to investigate. Thor seized the moment to swing his hammer and aim it high, taking off into the night to follow Loki’s trail.

By way of enchantment, Thor could fly with the battle hammer Loki had bestowed upon him.

Loki had granted his childhood wish.

Though following Loki proved difficult.

He moved with a speed born of magic. Loki’s tracks were already light upon the snow, as were all frost giants’, and nonexistent where great glaciers of ice stretched across the landscape, but Thor searched with dogged focus. He rose high into the air and spun his hammer, looking every direction as though at once.

He found him at last, a single dark point upon a spread of pristine snow.

Thor followed his lone progress as Loki traversed far beyond the palace’s reach, beyond the wilds he and Thor had hunted in his youth, into the distant wastes where few ever dared go. Thor followed, careful always to stay just on the edge of Loki’s notice.

At last, Loki came to a deep valley.

It was a barren place, void of snow and even the tiniest life. All was bare black rock, warped and twisted. What little light there was to be had seemed reluctant to enter, shying away from mountainous walls and the valley floor.

It felt of death.

Thor recognized the valley for what it was. Loki had told him of these places often, when he was young. The valley was one of the battlefields where Asgard and Jotunheim had met during the war. The intense roil of magic and rage in that conflict had changed the land. Killed it forever.

Thor frowned.

What would bring Loki to a place like this?

Thor landed and knelt upon a ridge overlooking the valley’s edge, watching as Loki’s lone figure made its way out over the forsaken rock.

He paused some distance away, where Thor could still see him, and turned his eyes slowly over the landscape.

Thor could not help but sense his mourning.

Then Loki knelt, and opened the satchel he carried. From it he drew what looked like a small casket, just big enough to be held in both hands. It glowed a deep, icy blue, and shone with a ripple of yet-uncoiled power as Loki touched it.

He rose, and held it out before him.

Thor heard the words as though issuing from the ground itself: first a whisper, growing into a great and terrible echo that reached into the sky. He saw the cold light of the casket burn more searing than the white-hot flames of a thousand suns. He felt the power surround Loki, drawn to him – called, captured, held – and then unleash itself in a tide of ice. What power burst forth from the casket struck the valley floor and began to spread, coating all, piling and piling without cease even as the black rock strove to corrupt and destroy that which it touched. Loki was relentless, conducting such power as Thor had only seen before in a crash of angry blizzards.

But it was not destructive, this flow of ice and cold. It did not kill, or suspend, or conceal.

It built.

Once ice coated the valley and crisped over with a layer of frost – all with the potential of life carried within – it began to build. Entire mountains formed in the freeze. The black of the valley’s inherent taint was completely smothered away. Burned free by the ice’s touch. Cauterized. Purified.

Loki was healing the land.

Thor stared in open-mouthed wonder for he knew not how long. He knew only that the power flowed without end, that Loki stood in the midst of it untouched, only his hair and cloak lifted, whipped about by the cold’s violent chill as snow coalesced around him.

He was beautiful. Regal. God-like.

Until he trembled and dropped to one knee.

Thor rose from his crouch.

Not until then was the strain apparent in Loki’s body. He stood and stood, stoic before the blast, until the power all at once overwhelmed him. Only then, long after so many others would have given out, did he sag, but still held the casket before him that it’s power would pour forth, even as his body shook and head draped under the onslaught.

It was so very like Loki.

“Loki!” Thor shouted his name and abandoned his watch. With another powerful swing of his hammer he took to air. He plunged into the wind and icy flurry without regard, which had grown so thick he could scarcely see Loki’s outline any longer. The stinging cold threw him from his course and into the ground almost immediately.

Thor didn’t care.

He pushed himself up, held one arm before his eyes that he could squint to see, and lurched forward. He opened his mouth to call Loki’s name again, but the sound was lost in the wind. Frozen the moment it left his lips.

He all but stumbled over Loki, still crouched in the snow, pale and snarling and red eyes blazing fury as Thor reached for him.

Thor could hear words just over the gale. Something akin to “no” and “stop,” but he paid them no heed, even as Loki threw himself aside to escape his hands.

Thor didn’t understand until he touched him.

The touch burned, but it was not the burn of a frost giant’s touch as he sometimes suffered in the sparring ring.

No, this burn ran deeper. Blacker. It clawed up his arm in lances of searing pain as though seeking the way to his heart. Thor heard Loki cry out, strangled, the last of his strength failing him as he dropped the casket.

Then Thor understood.

Loki came here to heal the land. With the casket he could remove its taint.

But that taint had to go somewhere.

Loki had taken it into himself. From there he would use whatever magic he knew to dispel it over time. Such was what he suffered on those long journeys away from home, and in those times he returned: pale, shivering, weak.

Thor would not allow it again.

He pulled Loki to his chest – he seemed so small, then – and wrapped both arms around him, holding him in as fierce a grip as Thor knew without breaking him. Cradling him thus with such tender ferocity Thor turned his back to the wind and the elements, hunched over, shielding him, teeth gritted and eyes shut tight against the pain of contact.

 _Give me your pain..._ The only thought Thor repeated to himself, over and over again. _You do not have to bear this burden alone. Give me your pain._

Thor knew nothing else for a long while, until the light of the casket faded, and the white blur of storm around them blew its last.

*****

Later, a cave.

And quiet.

Such quiet.

Thor did not recall entirely how they had gotten there.

Loki could have used his magic, he supposed, to transport them as far as the valley’s edge to some hollow where they could find shelter. Or he could have born them both into the air with the power of his hammer and what strength he still possessed, and stumbled upon this place by luck.

In truth, he didn’t remember.

Thor opened his eyes.

Loki filled all his vision, lying alongside him. Their cloaks lay sprawled beneath them, a meager cushion against the hard floor of the caverock. Thor could feel the cold seeping through even the thickly-lined fur. Overhead a multitude of glowworms clung to the ceiling, eking out their tiny existence.

Thor paid very little of it any attention.

He reached out his hand, gently touching Loki’s cheek.

His eyes fluttered. There was color in him, at least, though Loki’s breath drew in sharply as awareness returned and his gaze settled to meet Thor’s. Confusion reigned behind his eyes, as though he could not entirely place Thor’s presence there in his memory.

“Are you alright?” Thor croaked.

The confusion in Loki’s eyes quickly turned to irritation.

“Am _I_ alright!”

He thumped one hand against Thor’s chest. Weak. Without energy. But enough to make his point.

“You absolute, horrendous, misguided, snowblind, reckless, sallow-headed—”

Thor kissed him. Hand to the small of Loki’s back, he tugged him close. Loki’s hands rose to brace against his chest but did not push away inasmuch as they held on, curling long fingers into the cloth and leathers covering him.

Loki kissed hard enough to bite Thor’s lip.

Thor did not mind at all.

“Idiot,” Loki finished, panting for breath once they parted. His hand rose into Thor’s hair, cradling and combing even as he scowled.

Thor grinned.

“Where is the casket?”

“I...don’t know.” Thor lifted his head enough to look towards the mouth of the cave. His gaze swept the interior, empty save for themselves. “I think you dropped it back in the valley...”

“Oh, _wonderful_.” Loki thumped his chest weakly again. “Absolutely _brilliant,_ Thor. At least it’s likely buried now. Finding it again will be _first_ on our list of tasks before we head back, thanks to your carelessness.”

Thor slid his arm around him, and hugged him. Loki fell quiet save for a breath as he curled in against him, nested his cheek into the hollow of Thor’s neck and shoulder, close his eyes and rested easier against his warmth.

For a long while they were quiet.

“What happened?” Loki whispered at last.

“I do not know,” said Thor, keeping his voice low, as though fearful of disturbing the quiet. He could hear the faint rush of wind still in his ears. Feel the biting cold. It made him shiver. “I...followed you, and I saw you there. In the valley. I thought I could help...”

Loki sighed, long and suffering.

Then...

“You did,” he admitted.

“I did?”

Loki nodded his head without looking up.

“The taint is gone. Nor is it in you. This feels...” Loki drew his hand in a line down Thor’s chest. Stopped over the beat of his heart. As strong and defiant as ever. “Different.”

Thor tilted his head down. Brushed lips and breath through Loki’s dark hair.

“You did not have to do this alone,” he said quietly. “I would have suffered with you.”

“You are not king of this realm,” Loki muttered. “You are not obligated to this land.”

“But I am obligated to you.” Thor caught Loki’s cheek and lifted his face that he could see him. Meet and search his eyes. “Am I not your husband?”

Loki scowled.

“I chose to do this on my own. It was my decision. One I made long before you were in diapers.”

“Oh, Loki...”

Thor laughed with heartsore affection. He kissed him again. Pressed his touch into Loki’s skin where he could find it along the edges of his cloak.

“I am no longer in diapers,” he murmured against Loki’s neck. Along the line of his jaw. “I am not a child you must protect. I would stand by you in this. In all things. I love you.”

Another kiss. This time on the soft part of his throat.

Loki shivered.

“And if you require proof that I am no longer a swaddling child,” Thor murmured, “I can show you.”

“Brute,” Loki chuckled, but met his eyes fondly.

He brushed his thumb across Thor’s lips, red with the mark of his teeth.

“I do love you,” he sighed. “So much.”

And nipped at Thor’s scruff along his neck.

“My husband.”

Thor closed over his mouth with a kiss. This time Loki melted beneath it, sighing and parting and opening himself for his warmth to invade. He clung to Thor’s shoulders as Thor rolled him onto his back, Loki’s legs rising to hug against his hips.

A wanting moan rumbled deep through Thor’s chest. Loki could feel him in the sudden surge that ground his hips up against him, pushing a gasp from his lips.

No longer a child, indeed.

“You must promise me,” Loki rasped, clawing a handful of Thor’s hair and clinging to him as Thor loosened cloak and clothes. “Promise me you will never do something so reckless again.”

“We will argue about that later,” Thor rumbled. His eyes were heated. His touch a fiery brand every place they landed on Loki’s skin.

And they would. Later.

Much later.

First there was something else very important to be done.

*****

Loki and Hoarfen stood at the very outermost edge of Jotunheim’s borders. On a tall outcropping of rock, they could see far down into the wastes below. Those nebulous places claimed by no realm.

Cold wind tugged at their cloaks and fur. Loki lifted one hand to tuck back a loosened strand of his hair, its once glossy black sheen now duller and worn, sprinkled throughout with streaks of silver-white.

Hoarfen grumbled beside him.

“I’m getting too old to stand out in the wind like this.”

“Then turn around and go home,” said Loki, with the smallest of smiles. “I did not ask you to come along.”

The wolf snorted, and swung its head back to the small contingent of guards accompanying them. They stood well back from the rock ledge, giving their king his space.

“And trust your safety to a handful of half-trained guards?” Hoarfen growled. “I think not.”

Loki chuckled and patted his head as the wolf laid his ears flat. But Loki did not look to him.

His eyes were raised, watching the swirl of black clouds in the sky.

At last, a light flickered among them. Small at first. A tiny flicker of golden lightning.

Then it grew, burning away clouds and cold with a roar of deafening energy. Light plowed through the darkness of Jotunheim’s landscape and struck the ground as though with a physical blow, reverberating through the frozen ground.

The guards shrank back. Loki did not.

When the swirl of shimmering power faded, what remained on the ground was a mark of intricate runes burned into the very rock. Loki could read the script well enough, but that was not where his eyes landed. Nor the reason his smile stretched broad across his face.

A figure stood from its kneel in the center of the landing mark. Slow. With a grunting protest of joints.

Thor had let his beard grow out some time ago, but it did nothing to contain his grin, nor hide the lines that crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. Their impossibly blue color shone as bright as ever.

Pushing back his cloak, Thor held out his arms.

“Loki.”

“Thor.”

And Loki ran to fill them, as he did every time Thor returned home from a visit to oversee Asgard. Age had not diminished Thor’s strength, and he lifted Loki off the ground, swept him up into his arms to kiss.

Loki purred, perfectly content.

“Welcome back.”


End file.
